


Not even a street dog

by thatsalotofbirds



Series: Not even the street dogs [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Can be read as platonic but the homoerotic undertones are there, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Queer!Finn, Season 4 Spoilers, finn is on his deathbed, finn shelby is queer and i stand by that, i know for a fact they are, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsalotofbirds/pseuds/thatsalotofbirds
Summary: He was trying to control his breathing, trying to stay calm but he knew what was coming and he knew it was inevitable. His eyes were on the smoky sky of Birmingham, it looked different today, you could almost see the blue if you squinted. The street lacked any signs of life, the second gunshots sounded every man, woman, and child had raced inside seeking shelter and the illusion of safety. Leaving Finn to die alone in the mud of fucking Birmingham.(Only kind of canon compliant)
Relationships: Isaiah Jesus & Finn Shelby, Isaiah Jesus/Finn Shelby
Series: Not even the street dogs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178234
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Not even a street dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CallmeG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallmeG/gifts).



Finn Shelby knew he was going to die. There was no one here to save him this time. John was dead, Arthur was with his dear precious wife, and Tommy had fucked off to wherever Tommy fucks off to and now Finn was bleeding in the street. 

He was trying to control his breathing, trying to stay calm but he knew what was coming and he knew it was inevitable. Death was nipping at his ankles and soon would grab hold. His eyes were on the smoky sky of Birmingham, it looked different today he realized, you could almost see the blue if you squinted. The street lacked any signs of life, the second gunshots sounded every man, woman, and child had raced inside seeking shelter and the illusion of safety. Leaving Finn to die alone in the mud of fucking Birmingham. His vision was already swimming, fading in and out like the Cut’s gentle tide. 

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you slip out of this world and into the next. Finn’s life wasn’t flashing, it was fading. Fading away until he was desperately trying to remember anything, trying to grasp onto any part of Birmingham however ugly. 

He remembered the prostitute first, remembered how sick he felt, how she looked at him with the most tired eyes he’d ever seen. He remembered apologizing, desperately trying to do something to reconcile hurt that he hadn’t even caused. 

Tommy had asked if he had been a man, he’d lied. Said he had, that he did it. He hadn’t of course, he’d dressed himself as quickly as possible and left. His brother had stopped him on his way out, in the way a father would.

“Be a fucking man, Finn,” 

Finn had nodded, he’d be a man next time, next time he’d be a man, even if he didn’t want to, even if he’d rather it be a man then any fucking prostitute in this godfroesaken country. 

Linda had told Finn about heaven and hell once, it was nothing he hadn’t heard really but her hopeful tone had struck him in a sore spot. Finn wasn’t going to heaven. Shelbys don’t go to heaven, especially not queer Shelbys. Maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad, maybe John would be there, maybe they could share a laugh and a drink. People always said there was a special place in hell for the Shelbys, maybe that place in hell had liquor and snow, maybe there was quiet there. 

He thought about the things he was leaving behind as the darkness started to pull him down. The taste of gin, nipped from behind the bar at the Garrison, the loud drunk singing that seemed to echo down the street every Saturday, the scrappy stray dog that Finn fed whenever it came ‘round. Would anyone feed that dog now? Would it starve? It was young and scared and Finn had always seen himself in it a little bit but if Finn died it would die and it didn’t deserve that. Finn had messed up not the dog, it was Finn’s fault not the dogs, the dog had done nothing. 

Finn couldn’t remember the names of his brothers, he couldn’t remember their faces, but someone was yelling now, yelling near him, they had their hands clasped on the front of his shirt and were screaming and all he could do was tell them, he had to tell them about the dog. The dog couldn’t starve, no one deserved to starve. Not even a street dog. 

Isaiah Jesus was yelling, louder than he was ever sure he’d yelled before. He’d been with Michael when the shots went off, having a final afternoon drink before they both headed to whatever business they had to attend too. They’d nearly dismissed it but for the moment they were the closest thing to the law around here and if they had to reestablish order then so be it. It was a deceivingly nice day outside, not exactly one for bloody business. There was a figure sprawled in the street and Michael turned uneasily to Isaiah muttering something about damn strikers. They approached slowly, nearly sauntering over to the man until they got close enough to see the razorblades gleaming in the brim of a hat a good few meters in front of the body. The idea that a Peaky boy was shot in the street was enough to get Isaiah trotting but the ginger twinge of the boy’s hair had him sprinting. 

Finn Shelby was not dead. He was pale as hell and blood was pooling beneath him but he was shivering with the fierceness of someone who wasn’t quite ready to let go of life. Michael took off towards the Garrison presumably to call an ambulance. Isaiah wasn’t sure when he began yelling, he wasn’t quite sure who he was yelling for or what he was even yelling. He was trying to keep Finn awake, trying to get him to open his eyes. Then as if all at once the shivering stopped and the youngest Shelby was gone. The silence that fell upon the streets was suffocating and Isaiah barely managed a choked “In the bleak midwinter,”. He stood up and turned away resisting the urge to rip his hair out.

Isaiah was sure he was hallucinating when he heard the muttering, he was sure drink and death and rage were going to his head. He turned around all the same. It was not in fact drink and death and rage because Finn Shelby’s mouth was open and he was saying something. Isaiah knelt quickly, leaning in to listen, while simultaneously trying to deal with the shock that his best friend was still alive if only for a few more minutes. 

“The dog, its scrawny, you don’t really see any other kind of dog ‘round here ya know but he comes to the back door and scratches, like he knows I’ll be there, you’ve got to feed him-,” Finn was looking past him, talking quickly and blinking back tears. 

“Finn,” Isaiah was trying to hold it together, trying to keep them both calm. 

“See cause if I don’t feed him no one will and I’m not gonna be ‘round for much longer so you gotta make sure you feed him, he likes ham you know, he’ll probably take turkey too but he likes ham the best, never given him beef he might like beef but first-,” 

“Finn,” A gentle shake made Finn look at him, made him look a little more sane. 

“Look we’ll feed it together once you’re better Finn-”, Isaiah was holding his friend now, blood coating him as he tried to put pressure on the wound while reassuring the boy in his arms that everything would be okay. “We’ll even feed it beef if you want Finn, but if we’re gonna do that you gotta-,” Isaiah coughed to clear the thickness building in his throat. “You gotta stick around till then Finn boy, you… you just gotta,” 

“You’ll feed him then?” Finn looked up at him.

“I’ll feed him,” 

Distantly the horn of the ambulance echoed. If they could just hold out a minute more Finn would be alright Finn would be okay Isaiah reminded himself. 

Finn looked away, down the streets of Birmingham. 

“You won’t-,” Finn took a shuddering breath in as Isaiah pressed down harder on the wound. “You won’t tell ‘em I cried will ya?” 

Finn fucking Shelby, forever worried about what his brothers would think about him, even on his deathbed the kid had some standard he was trying to live up too. 

Isaiah chuckled as much as one could in this situation. “No, no I won’t tell ‘em,” 

Finn smiled weakly as he rested his head against Isaiah’s chest

The ambulance was quicker then they normally were for this part of Birmingham. Isaiah imagined the mere mention of the Shelby name was enough persuasion for the paramedics. He let them take Finn, let the doors of the ambulance close as he stood blood-soaked in the street. 

He stumbled down that same street towards the Garrison, looking startlingly bloody for just after two in the afternoon, and when Michael reached out to hand him a cigarette he accepted it, if only to rid his mouth of the vague twinge of blood that was hanging in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Finn's queer identity was sparked by @CallmeG which is why I gifted this to them :D. I definitely struggle with writing about death and things concerning but I hope y'all enjoy!


End file.
